A sword hit her squarely in the side, and she felt an instant of incredible pain, but then it was gone; she had lost another life. Angry, she lashed out with the Black Dagger and sliced open a soldier’s throat. As he started to fall back she finished him with a thrust to the heart; she wanted a life to replace the one she had lost.
She picked up another guardsman and threw him against his companions; then another, and another. She used her hands and her warlockry both.
“You can’t stop me!” she shrieked. “No one can stop me!”
The Black Dagger flared blue, and something crackled like dead leaves in a hot fire. Someone was trying to use magic against her.
“No one!” she repeated. “Not even wizards!”
The Dagger flared again, greenish this time. Tabaea jabbed it into a soldier’s belly.
A moment later the guard broke; several men fell back under the lieutenant’s orders, but others ran off down side-streets, either Wizard Street or Arena Street, and a few ducked into the Cap and Dagger.
And of course, half a dozen or so lay unmoving on the ground.
“All right, men,” the lieutenant shouted, “she won’t make it easy, we’ll leave this one to the wizards!”
“Run away!” Tabaea called. “Look at them, you people, look at them run! Send your wizards, I don’t care! They can’t stop me!” She waved the dagger in the air, and a cheer went up from her “army.” “Come on!” she called, and again she marched toward the Palace.
At the Palace, the more ordinary officials and workers listened closely as the magicians reported on the encounter.
“Bad,” Karanissa said. “Very bad. Three dead, at least. All on our side.”
“She’s still coming?” Lady Sarai asked.
“Oh, yes; the fight hardly even slowed her down.”
“What if we let her pass, but stopped her army?” The question was directed at the entire room, rather than at Karanissa.
“We could,” Okko agreed. “But what would that accomplish, if we can’t stop her?”
“Well, she couldn’t very well rule the city all by herself, could she?”
“No,” Okko agreed, “but I think she could kill everyone here, one by one, starting with the overlord himself, until the survivors started obeying her.”
“Would she do that?” one of the overlord’s scriveners asked, horrified.
“Yes,” Teneria said flatly. “She would.”
Sarai turned to the wizards. “What spells have you tried against her?”
“Several,” Tobas said. “From simple curses to the White Death. Whatever is protecting her blocks them all instantly.”
“Is there any way to stop her?” Lady Sarai asked.
“Probably,” Tobas replied, “and we’ll keep trying spells. But most of them would take more time than we have to prepare. And some of them would take out large parts of the city with her.”
“And we don’t really know which to use,” Karanissa pointed out. “Since we haven’t yet figured out what keeps her alive, we can’t be sure of how to kill her.”
Lord Torrut stepped into the room at that point and demanded loudly, “What’s happening?”
Several people rushed to tell him; he quickly chose one to serve as his spokesman, and began quietly absorbing information.
“I wonder where the other conspirators are?” Tobas asked.
Karanissa shook her head, but before she could say anything, Kelder of Tazmor answered quietly, “I don’t think there is any conspiracy. I think there’s just Tabaea.”
“You never found traces of anyone else, did you?” Lady Sarai asked, startled. “She’s small enough, and strong enough, and seems to have several different magicks available—how can she do that?”
“There’s just Tabaea,” Karanissa agreed. “At least, there’s just Tabaea and the rabble from the Field.”
“It’s all just her...” Lady Sarai’s voice trailed off; then she asked, “What happens if we can’t stop her?”
No one had an answer for that, until Karanissa suggested, “We die, probably.”
“There’s no need for that,” Lord Torrut said, startling the others. “We don’t die; we retreat, we regroup, we reconsider our situation, and when we’re ready, we retaliate.”
“But how...” Sarai began.
“Listen, little Sarai,” Torrut said, cutting her off, “you and your father have made fun of me for years for being a warrior with no wars to fight. Well, now I have a war—and by the gods I swear that I’m going to fight it, and I’m going to win it. It’s not who wins the first battle that matters, it’s who wins the last battle. This Tabaea is going to win the first one, but I intend to make sure it’s not the last.”
The whispered side-conversations had died away as Lord Torrut spoke; now everyone was listening to him.
“This Tabaea doesn’t like the overlord—that means we need to get him out of the Palace before she gets here, and while we’re at it I think we had better get his entire family out, with him—Ederd the Heir and Zarréa and Edarth and Kinthera and Annara, all of them. If she’s lived in the Wall Street Field then she probably doesn’t like the guard, and she doesn’t like me, and Sarai, she probably doesn’t like your father, Lord Kalthon—you’d better get him and your brother out of here, too. And magicians—she doesn’t like magicians.”
“But where do we go?” Lady Sarai asked, dismayed.
“She’s coming from Grandgate, is she? Then we go to Seagate. We put the overlord and his family and anyone who’s too old or too sick to fight on a ship, and we sail it out of here, out of her reach.”
“How do you know when it’s out of her reach?” Tobas asked.
That stopped Lord Torrut for a moment; then he smiled, showing well-kept teeth. “I don’t,” he said. “I’m guessing. But if she could stop a ship at sea ... well, has she shown any sign of being able to affect what she can’t see?”
“No,” Karanissa said. “Not yet.”
“How can we fight back from a ship, though?” Lady Sarai protested.
“Until we know how to fight back,” Lord Torrut pointed out, “what does it matter where we are?”
Lady Sarai was not entirely satisfied with this, but she could think of no good answer. “I would never have thought a murder case could turn into something like this,” she muttered to herself.
No one heard her, as Lord Torrut continued, “I sent that woman Alorria to rouse the overlord. And I’ll leave it to this group here to get old Ederd and anyone else who Tabaea might want to kill out of the Palace and down to Seagate before she gets here; and while you’re doing that, I’ll be doing what I can to slow her arrival.”
“Then you’re not going to flee yourself, Lord Torrut?” someone asked.
“Of course not!” Lord Torrut grinned outright. “At long last, I have a war to fight!”
Part Three: Empress
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lady Sarai could hear distant shouting as she tucked the blanket around her father; Tabaea and her army must have gotten as far as Quarter Street, at the very least. Kalthon the Younger sat upright at the back of the wagon, looking slightly dazed; Lady Sarai could see his expression clearly in the light of the torch the wagon’s driver held.
“Sarai, I don’t understand,” her brother said again.
“You don’t have to,” Sarai said. “You just do what I told you.”
“But aren’t you coming?”
Sarai hesitated. She looked down at her father. He had appeared to be more or less awake when they left the Palace, and had moved partly under his own power, but now he gave no sign of consciousness; he probably couldn’t hear anything, might well have no idea what was going on around him. “No,” she said, “I’m not.”
“But why not?” young Kalthon protested. “If this crazy magician would kill us all, won’t she kill you, too?”
“Oh, I suppose she will if she catches me and finds out who I am, yes.” Sarai attempted a mocking smile, but it didn’t
work very well—or perhaps her brother couldn’t see it in the dark; her face was probably in shadow from where he sat.
“Then shouldn’t you come with us?”
“No.” She gave the blanket a final tug, then let herself slide back over the side of the wagon.
“Why not?” Kalthon’s wail was heartbreaking. “How am I going to manage Daddy without you?”
“You won’t be alone; there will be people to help. The overlord’s going, too, and all his family. His granddaughter Annara will help. And Ederd the Heir.” She hoped Ederd the Heir would, at any rate; he was a healthy man, not yet fifty, but prone to turn morose and useless at times. His daughter Annara was just a year older than Sarai, though, and still cheerful and energetic.
“But what will you do? Are you staying in the Palace? Is this horrible woman going to kill you?”
“No,” Sarai said. “No, she won’t kill me. I won’t stay in the Palace. I’ll hide somewhere in the city.”
“But if you’re hiding, why can’t you come with us?”
Sarai sighed. “Kallie,” she said, “I’m sending you and Dad and the others away so you’ll be safe, but someone has to stay here to fight Tabaea, and I’m going to be the one from our family who does that.”
“What about Ederd the Heir, then? Shouldn’t he be staying?”
“No, because he’s too valuable. He’s the overlord’s heir.”
Kalthon couldn’t argue with that, but he still didn’t like it.
“I think you should come with us,” he said.
“No, Kallie,” Sarai said gently. Then she stepped away and told the waiting driver, “Go, quickly!”
He obeyed wordlessly, setting the torch in its bracket and cracking the reins over the horses.
Lady Sarai watched them go, the horses trotting, the wagon bumping its way down Palace Street, toward the docks at Seagate. The torchlight wavered madly with the wagon’s motion, sending light and shadow dancing insanely across the darkened housefronts on either side.
Sarai hoped that using horses wouldn’t be too conspicuous, especially at this hour of the night; the palace stables had held no oxen, and besides, oxen would be dangerously slow. A few of the richest merchants were using horses to draw their wagons now, weren’t they?
She hoped so. Or if not, then she hoped Tabaea wouldn’t know any better; it was entirely possible the little thief wouldn’t even recognize a horse, or wouldn’t know that they were traditionally the exclusive property of the nobility.
The royal family was all safe now, or as safe as she could make them—Ederd IV, his wife Zarréa, his sour old bachelor brother Edarth, the aging son who would one day be Ederd V, his wife Kinthera, and their daughter Annara, all rousted from their beds and sent hurrying on their way to a hastily-chartered ship. And now Lady Sarai’s own family, her father and brother, were following. Okko, too old to fight—if theurgists could fight, which they generally couldn’t—had gone as well.
Lord Torrut hadn’t fled, of course; he was out there somewhere, trying every sort of trap, ambush, and delaying tactic he could improvise. Captain Tikri was with him, Sarai was fairly sure. And most of the magicians she had collected in the Palace were taking shelter at various places in the city, on Wizard Street or elsewhere.
And of course, she was staying, herself—but where?
There was a temptation to remain in the Palace after all, but to pretend to be someone else—borrow a maid’s apron, perhaps, or join the assistant cooks in the kitchens. After all, as far as she knew, Tabaea had never seen her, and wouldn’t recognize her face.
That was too risky, though. Tabaea might have spies, or her unknown magic might expose the deception, or some innocent servant might slip up and reveal Sarai’s rank.
No, Sarai knew she would have to find somewhere else—but where?
She realized she was still staring down the black and empty length of Palace Street, though the wagon was out of sight; she turned away with a wry smile.
Maybe, she thought, she should go to the Wall Street Field. After all, wasn’t that where anyone in Ethshar went who had lost her home and been thrown out into a hostile world? And wouldn’t it be appropriate, now that Tabaea’s ragtag followers would be taking their places in the Palace?
But it wasn’t everyone from the Field who was marching with the self-proclaimed empress, and Sarai realized, with a bitter little laugh, that the Field was probably the place in all the city outside the Palace where she was most likely to be recognized as Lord Kalthon’s daughter.
The barracks towers in Grandgate would be almost as bad—and besides, a woman alone there would hardly be safe. Besides, Grandgate, or any part of Wall Street, was a long way from the Palace. She wanted somewhere closer at hand, somewhere she could keep an eye on things, the way the magicians did.
The magicians were mostly on Wizard Street, of course—and not necessarily the closer sections, since for many their spells could serve them even at a distance.
She frowned. She was no magician, and she hardly belonged on Wizard Street. She had a little money with her—not much, but a little. Why not just take a room at an inn?
No, she told herself, that would be too exposed, would involve too much dealing with strangers, and at this hour, would be far too noticeable. Ordinary travelers didn’t take rooms hours after midnight, did they?
A high, thin scream sounded somewhere to the northeast, on the other side of the Palace. The shouting was much closer, and she could hear other noises, noises she couldn’t identify. Tabaea must be almost to the Palace, and here she was, still standing on the plaza across from Palace Street.
She stepped off the stone pavement onto the bare earth of Circle Street, and choosing her direction at random, she turned right—she didn’t want to follow Palace Street, or even the fork for North Palace Street. She wanted to put distance between herself and the fleeing nobles.
The next turn off the circle was Nightside Street, and she passed that by, as well, and the next. Here her choice was largely pragmatic; both streets were utterly black and unlit, while closer at hand the glow from the windows of the Palace spilled out over the outer walls and made Circle Street relatively navigable.
She could hear the hissing of fountains left running, out there in the darkened gardens and forecourts; the sound, normally pleasant, was turned sinister and menacing by the circumstances. Sarai wondered whether the wealthy inhabitants of the mansions of Nightside were aware of what was happening just a few blocks away. When they awoke in the morning, how long would it take them to realize that the World had gone mad, their overlord deposed and a thieving young magician ruling the city? Would Tabaea leave them alone, or would she pillage those mansions behind their iron fences?
Well, if Sarai had her way, Tabaea wouldn’t have time to disrupt the city’s life that much. And right now, Lady Sarai did not care to try finding her way through Nightside’s unlit streets.
Sooner or later, despite the dark, Sarai knew she would have to move farther out into the city, away from the Palace; she wished there were more natural light to help her. The greater moon was rising in the east, casting orange light on the rooftops, but not yet penetrating to the streets below, while the lesser moon was far down in the west, its pale pink glow of no use at all.
By the time she reached North Street the roar of battle was overpowering, and farther ahead, farther around the circle, she could see reflected torchlight and the shadowed backs of soldiers. North Street was no more brightly illuminated than the others she had passed, but she could scarcely go any farther around the circle if she meant to escape; she turned left onto North Street, despite the darkness.
And then, suddenly, she knew where she was going. She would go to Wizard Street, just three blocks away. She would go to Mereth’s shop, Mereth of the Golden Door. Even if Mereth wouldn’t take her in, surely the wizard would know of someone who would.
Now that she had a destination in mind, Sarai began to hurry.
Behind her a man’s
dying scream sounded above the fighting. Sarai winced. It seemed so pointless, fighting Tabaea every step of the way like this; didn’t Lord Torrut see that? He was letting his men die for nothing.
But there was nothing Sarai could do about it, not any more. She fled down North Street.
The stub of a lone torch still burned unnoticed above a shuttered shop on Harbor Street; Lady Sarai glanced at it, grateful for the slight relief from the surrounding night. To see Harbor Street utterly empty and almost dark seemed very odd indeed; she had never before been out so late, never seen the streets so deserted.
Behind her the shouting seemed to be fading away. By the time she turned left onto Wizard Street she was no longer entirely sure whether she heard shouting, or the distant roar of the sea.
Here there were no torches, only whatever light moons and stars might provide, but Sarai could see that the door of Mereth’s shop was closed, her signboard unlit. The shop windows were tightly closed, draperies drawn, but a thin line of light showed around the edges; it would scarcely have been visible were the street brighter, either with daylight or the glow of the evening’s torches and lanterns.
Sarai hurried to the door, and rapped gently on the gilded panels.
For a long moment, nothing happened; then, abruptly, the door was flung open. “Get in!” someone ordered.
Sarai obeyed, and the door slammed shut behind her, leaving Wizard Street once more dark and empty.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The palace door was locked and barred, but Tabaea didn’t mind; she braced herself against the paving stones of the plaza, put her shoulder to the brass-covered panels, and shoved with all her supernatural strength. The latch shattered, the brackets holding the bar snapped, and the twisted, ruined door swung open. Tabaea laughed and shouted, “Come on!” She waved to her followers; some of them surged forward, close on her heels, but others hung back, intimidated by the idea of intruding on the Palace itself.
Tabaea stepped through the broken portal into a broad and shadowy marble corridor; somewhere far ahead light spilled through an archway, and the contrast of the distant glow with the surrounding darkness seemed to exaggerate the length of the passage.
The Spell of the Black Dagger Page 21